Game Over
by thedeliciouscaek
Summary: John successfully exited the game, but is it everything he had hoped for?


It was the first snowfall of the year. He stared out the window, watching the snow fall carelessly to the ground. His blue eyes traced the paths of the flakes, as if searching for some patterns in the weather. He had always heard the term weather patterns used by the meteorologists on TV, but never really understood what it meant. He watched the snow, unsure of why it had captivated him so…

His breath fogged up the glass, causing him to blur his own reflection in the window. What about snow had been so poignant to him? It had always been there in his life. He had lived in the same dull, gray house for years, with the same kind of weather. Snow was nothing new! But why had it stuck out in his mind today? He looked to his fogged over reflection, and in it saw a faded memory of his past: his sister, who had never lived in an area that received snow.

Ahh, yes. That was it. Jade had always wanted to see the snow. Her hot, Island climate had never gotten that low to even produce snow before. Why had she lived so far away again? He couldn't quite remember. His memories were not the greatest, after a traumatic incident in his past. He just couldn't put his finger on what had happened, but all he did remember was how far he had lived from his sister, and even his other friends.

He laughed, remembering how far apart him and his friends had been. Dave had lived all the way out in Texas, in one of those massive apartments. Rose, well she had lived in a community much like his own, but perhaps a little more affluent. As for his sister, somehow she had been sent out to a far off island, somewhere off the east coast. He always wondered what had happened when they were born, to send her off like that.

He looked back to the snow, something still not feeling right. It was like there was something he was missing… He knew for a fact that Jade had been his sister, but how had he come to this realization? His father had never told him anything, and his Nanna had died long before he even got to know her. What had brought about his seemingly sudden clarity?

He sighed, and rested his thin frame against the window sill. It was still just large enough to fit him, even though he had grown up quite a bit. He smiled, his memory allowing him to see the moments of enjoyment he used to have as a child on that sill. He had often used it for things such as puppet shows for outside, or even just a quiet place to sit and relax.

He focused back on the snow again, and he bit his lip. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something else, once more. What about snow could be so interesting? It seemed like there had once been something involving snow, besides his sister's general love of the frozen water.

He saw his glasses sparkle in the light, and once again he remembered: Dave. He had lived in Texas, in such a hot city. He had wanted snow at times too. In fact, he often told Dave about his snow days off from school, or how he had been stuck inside due to the blizzards he would get.

He smiled, as he thought about how Dave would often respond to his statements with some ironic bullshit that was mostly just a cover for how jealous he was of the boy. He remembered a particular time when Dave had told him that he "just wish you could be all up in this damn heatstroke, rolling in the mad sweat-pools". He let out a small giggle, as he clutched his legs to his chest. He rocked back and forth a little bit, much like an impatient child. He leaned back against the sill, and sighed once more, still trying to figure out his own head.

He looked outside again, and noticed the snowfall was also being drenched in bright sunlight. The light was so bright, despite it being so stormy outside. He looked at it, wondering just what this reminded him of.

Bright light in a gloomy atmosphere… It was very much like Rose. She may have had the gloomiest family and living situation, but she always shone so bright. Yes, that was it. She had often told them of such gloomy facts and such wordy descriptions, but she always had some plan, or some words of encouragement. He smiled, as he thought of her. She had been one of his first real crushes, though he hoped she had never known that.

He heard the wind pick up outside, which made him snap to attention. He stared outside, as if looking at the wind, thinking hard. This he knew was familiar to him. The wind, the snow, the bright light, all of it had some bigger meaning to him. But what could it have been?

He watched the wind pull the blankets of snow off the ground, and began following them with his eyes. The snow seemed to be dancing with the wind, intermingling and moving so beautifully. He frowned, his mind drawing a blank. He knew that all of this had meant something to him. He looked to the wind, and saw it was making wavy patterns, blowing the snow along the same lines as if to form an image. It appeared like that typical illustration of wind, billowing and curling at the ends. His eyes widened, then squinted at the phantom image in his mind.

Breath. The word came to him as if it had been some revelation lost in time. That had been the term for the image he was seeing. It was the symbol of breath. But what did that mean to him? He was just an average young boy, who had happened to been through a lot in his life. What did a dumb symbol about breath have to do with him?

He breathed on the glass again, watching the fog grow and then slowly dissipate. What was it about breath and him? That symbol… It meant so much more than that, he just couldn't figure it out.

His eyes wandered from the window to the rest of the living room. It had hardly undergone any change since he was a kid, or more poignantly since his father had died. It still had all the random family heirlooms scattered about, placed in a sort of perfect ordered chaos. He didn't have the heart to change anything about the house—it was the last bit of his family that he had left. His eyes froze on the Colonel Sassacre's book, an heirloom that had been in the family ever since his Nanna was a little girl. It was probably years older than even her.

What a minute… Heirlooms… Heirs… Something about heirs and that breath symbol…

Him. It had been him. He had been the heir of breath. It had been his… nickname? What a strange nickname for a kid to have. He couldn't even remember how the name came to be… For some reason, he felt like it was something important.

He had a real name didn't he? That took quite a moment to remember.

…John! Yes, his name had been John. Or rather, it IS John. For some reason, it seemed weird to even think of his own name. He hadn't heard anyone say his name for quite some time. He was all alone, and had been that way ever since he had come back.

He had been gone for quite a while, hadn't he? John sat and thought about his past, trying to remember his time away from home. Where had he gone, exactly? He couldn't quite remember. In fact, the only thing he could remember was waking up in his home one morning, just much older than when he last went to bed in his home. But he knew it wasn't just a dream. He could remember being outside, and actually travelling away from his home. He didn't know where, and he couldn't remember how he had arrived at all of those places, but he knew he had seen many magnificent places. Why couldn't he remember? Something as magnificent as a long voyage surely should have stuck out in his mind; in fact it should have dominated his every waking thought! For the past three years, he hadn't thought about his history or even his friends. Weird as it is, he had only begun to think about them just now, at the first sign of snow. But why now, after all these years? Better yet, why had they yet to contact him after his journey? Had he done something wrong? John thought back to the days leading up to his memory black out, but couldn't find a single reason why his friends might want to ignore him.

He moved off the window sill, and shuffled slowly over to his computer. Adding the computer to his living room was just about the only change he had made to his home. It just made things easier for him to have his computer downstairs. He rarely spent any time upstairs anymore, besides sleeping and using the bathroom. He just felt far too weird in his old childhood room, and he was still too distraught over his father to attempt to go into his Dad's room again. John gently moved the mouse, in order to take the monitor out of sleep mode. As the screen whirred back to life, he began to explore his desktop. He felt almost strange in doing so, considering this was the very same computer he used to use to communicate with his old friends. Just thinking about them in itself was weird enough, but now he almost felt like revisiting their old conversations and their past revelries. As his mouse scanned the screen, he began to take notice of a few empty spots on his desktop. A few things were missing from there, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

A flashing tab on his desktop caught his attention. The symbol was both familiar and foreign to him, but the name of the program caught his eye.

SBURB. John's deep, blue eyes looked at the tab. Yes, it was coming back to him. SBURB had been the game he and his friends had been dying to play. That was also where his other name had come from. The heir of breath had gone on to play SBURB, and he had done well. He reached his ultimate form, which is where the "heir of breath" comes from, and even gone on to defeat quite a few powerful villains.

Slowly, he began to remember that his friends had all played with him, and had all reached their ultimate forms too. Rose, Dave, even Jade, they all had achieved that god-level of power. He smiled softly. Jade, she had been a witch. A witch of… something. It had something to do with the universe. Perhaps it was stars? Gallaxies? Space?

…Yes, she had been the witch of space. She often used her powers to shrink down the planets and galaxies, and play with them. Hadn't she once used those powers for travel, too? It had been fun to watch her do such miraculous things.

Now Dave… He had been involved with time. He had often used his time travelling powers to create multiple Dave's in one area, and then laugh at all of them. John laughed, remembering how he had once made a joke about visiting the Dave store for a new Dave whenever one was needed.

John refocused on the screen, his gaze had shifted slightly as he began to remember all of his friends. Rose had been involved in all of this too, hadn't she? She had been… a seer. Yes, a seer of light. That had been why the bright light was so memorable to him. He thought about what she had told him once, when they were in game. She had said that the light used to have all the answers for them, but only her title and aspect could unscramble it's mysterious puzzles.

As for John… What had he done with his powers? All he could seem to remember is having them, and something about "the windy thing", but never using them. He assumed he had something to do with wind and air, but he felt as if he had never really been of use to his friends or his game session. What sort of good can stupid wind powers do, anyways?

He finally gave the SBURB window a look, which was simply an uninstall screen. It was set at 99% complete. He looked at it curiously, and clicked the cancel button. Why would he want to remove something that had been so meaningful to him and his friends. Sure, he couldn't remember most of it, and he certainly didn't intend on playing it again, but it would at least give him the nostalgia effect every time he looked at it.

The screen blinked a few times, and it brought up a new pop up window. It read "Are you sure you want to cancel uninstall? This cannot be undone." He wondered why an uninstall program wouldn't allow you to uninstall again, but he then figured it meant that he couldn't get all his uninstall progress taken care of. He shrugged it off, and hit yes.

After that, the progress bar drained and the program made an odd sound. It appeared to shut everything down for a moment, but came back quickly. The program brought up a new screen, which read "Welcome back, John. Are you ready to remember?" The text looked a bit strange, quite different from the usual text that other programs had. He frowned, and shrugged at the message. He'd love to remember, but what exactly was he going to remember? It didn't seem like there was much else to do, so he moused over the "yes" option, and clicked it. After that, the realization hit him: He had never authorized an uninstall program on his computer for SBURB. How had it even managed to do that on it's own? He looked back to the screen, slightly worried, as the text changed from the welcome message to a new one.

"I don't think you do." He read the text quite a few times, trying to decipher its exact meaning. What was the program getting at? Of course he wanted to remember! What in his life could be so worth forgetting about SBURB? Maybe it was just a storytelling tool the game uses to get you psyched up?

After a minute of waiting, the screen changed to the SBURB install screen, as it read off a list of what it was loading. It was something games did to add either a little bit of technical stuff and a little bit of whimsy to their games. It allowed you to see exactly what items or content lagged you, while also allowing you a non-static screen while you wait.

But something wasn't right… Instead of the regular game files that you would expect to find in a loading screen, it read off memories. On the screen, he saw the words "initializing memory backup to [user] John Egbert". He froze, and in an instant he felt a surge of pain rush to his head, and he began to see images of his memories flood his eyes. His head pulsated, as he saw images of him playing the game. He saw all the people, and all the creatures that had perished as a result of the game. He even saw his old friends, all waiting for him. He saw images of the trolls, and every single sprite they had encountered. He watched his father die again, and saw Jack Noir destroying his alien friends' session. He saw his creation of himself and his friends and ancestors in the lab, and he saw the long journey he and Jade had taken to even reach his friends. He saw his friends fight, and he saw them fail, and finally he saw all of his close friends dead, the last thing that had occurred before his memory had been erased.

John fell to his knees, tears in his eyes. His head was pounding from information overload. He shut his eyes, but all he could see was the images of his friends dead, mangled bodies. It was horrific. He turned on his side, and clutched his knees to his chest. He saw the blood all over Jack's body, and pooled around his friends. John began to sob, as he realized how he had actually "won" the game, and how he had gotten out.

His friends had gone in and fought, while John had a bout of cowardice. He promised he would be right behind them. He remembered the look of pure fear on Rose's face, a look that only a player who could look into the future could give. They had all rushed into battle, and he had tried to move his feet, had tried to run in with them. But he had hesitated, and in his hesitation, they had already begun their descent into defeat.

John sobbed even harder, remembering the look of utter disappointment on Rose's face, as she noted how he hid behind the rocks of the meteor. Jade had been awestruck, and Dave was absolutely frustrated with his friend. He had screamed at him, in his final moments, as Jade was slaughtered before his eyes. Dave had ripped his shades off, and cursed John's name. Told him if he survived this, he'd come back and kick his ass as hard as he could. And then he too was murdered. Jack was far too powerful for them, at least for the three of them working without John.

And then there was Rose. All she gave him was a look of utter disappointment, and tears. She had known it was coming, yet she didn't want to believe it was coming from one of her friends.

John remembered feeling absolute despair at his friends deaths, and a wave of anger rushed over him. He had unleashed this wave of attacks, one right after the other, onto Jack thanks to a burst of energy and power the likes of which he had never experienced before. It helped him weaken Jack, to the point that he was able to basically send him off crying for his nonexistent Mama.

Of course it had been his friend's final wills that had caused a huge portion of Jack's destruction. He was weak from fighting two magic users, and a frustratingly annoying time traveler. Jade had even brandished her gun at one point, and taken a couple of hits on the creature. However, John had put on the finishing touches, due in part to his surge of power. It was partially due to his frustration at his friends' murders, but also in part due to his newfound hatred. He hated himself for what he had let happen to his friends. And it was that hatred that allowed him to lunge headfirst at Jack, without a single care for his own safety. At that point, he really didn't care if he died right there. In fact, it would have been a blessing. He would have loved to die, so at least he wouldn't have to live with the constant memories of how he had screwed his friends over.

John smacked his head on the ground repeatedly, as if he was trying to shake away the negative thoughts. He was whispering things to himself, gentle words of hatred and despair. He wanted to forget everything all over again. The trauma he had been through, his own hatred for himself, the constant feelings of despair… Those were the things he had been trying to uninstall. It was his memories, his pain, his sorrow; all of it was what he had attempted to remove.

He had beaten the game, but had received the bad ending. He had survived, and he was back in the game once again.

John slowly stopped sobbing, as he wallowed in self pity and misery for a few minutes. He looked to the computer monitor, which was a giant countdown. He remembered this part all too well. Soon, a meteor would come down and destroy his world again. The boy smirked, a sickeningly evil smirk. This was his chance to finally get what he deserved: his own death. He sat up, still holding his knees to his chest. He was smiling, albeit a sort of nervous smile that comes from someone who has seen so much despair in just a few minutes of his life.

He looked to the window, and sort of crawled over to the sill. He'd watch the time pass by, and at least spend his last moments at peace. He pulled himself up to the sill, and sat in it, still holding his knees to his chest. He saw that the weather had become so sporadic, with bursts of snow blasts and then bursts of light. He could swear he felt his body change temperatures with each weather change. It almost felt like someone was there, blowing hot and cold air on him or just playing around with his thermostat.

He watched the snow go back and forth from hard snow, to rainy snow, and then go to bursts of bright sunlight. It was strange, but almost peaceful in a sense. He had noticed that the wind had stopped completely, almost like an omen. He saw the meteor in the distance, and he began to feel a strange sort of cowardice once again. He buried his face in his knees, assuring himself that it was what had to be done. He looked back towards the meteor, which was only a speck in the sky amongst all the chaos of the weather outside.

What would it be like to die? Was it going to hurt? Would he really get peace in the end? John looked back to his living room, and thought about how much life he really had left to live. Sure, it would be a sad, almost meaningless existence full of regret, but it was still a life. John shivered, feeling the cold glass against his arms, as he rested up against the window. He was barely 20, and yet he was going to end it all like this? That wasn't like him.

John stared at the snow. He remembered when he was younger, and so full of energy and zest. Back when he was 13, he thought he could take on the world. And now look at him. He had become this shell of a young man, a walking husk. He shook his head, feeling the sense of despair creeping back up again. He looked to the sky, and noticed the meteor was getting closer. He thought about his life, and what benefit there may be to trying to fight through the game again. Was there even a point? Could he even enter a session that was devoid of any other players?

He sat there for a good 2 minutes, just thinking over his own mortality, and that of his other friends. Maybe if he fought through the game, he'd find his alien friends. He could start over. He could have a whole new life, that would be made to avenge the deaths of his three best friends.

His friends… No, he couldn't live with the thought that he had a hand in killing them. There was no way he could keep on living with that notion. Even if they themselves came back to tell him it was okay, and that he should carry on, he'd never be able to look at himself again. Even his own slight reflection in the window was sickening him.

He felt the meteor coming, as the surrounding area began to shake with the coming shock of the meteor. He shut his eyes, and nodded, resting his chin on his knees. A faint smile rested on his lips.

He was ready to end it, once and for all.

He waited for the impact of the meteor, waited for the resulting crash to obliterate him, but after a few minutes, he felt nothing. There wasn't even a shaking anymore from the meteor coming. He opened his eyes, and noticed the meteor had gone. It had vanished, right into thin air.

But it had been right there! He had felt the shaking, had even seen it in the sky. But before him there was nothing. No trace of any meteor in the slightest. His eyes widened, as he looked around the room.

The living room was full with the scent of freshly baked cakes, and a rather large present sitting in the middle of the room. John looked around, and noticed his computer was missing from the spot he had last placed it. He could hear his father in the other room, chatting with his friends over his PDA.

John looked out the window, and noticed that there was mail in the mailbox. His eyes widened, as he knew what would be in there. It was SBURB.

He jumped down off the window sill, which seemed to have grown since the last time he sat down on it, and ran up to his room. He threw open the doors, and saw his computer in the corner atwitter with new messages from his friends. He looked to the computer, and saw his friends all wishing him a happy birthday. His head turned to look at the calendar. April 13th, 6 years earlier. Today was his thirteenth birthday.

* * *

[A/N: This is fairly short, because I wrote it at school during my boring lectures. I know it's shoddy, but if anyone has any sort of idea on how I can improve it or expand on it, I'd really love the help!]


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